


The Empty Man

by Duck_Life



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bittersweet, But That Doesn't Make It Happy, Dementors, Family, Friendship, Gen, Sirius Black Lives, St Mungo's Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: After Sirius is attacked by Dementors at the Department of Mysteries, Harry visits him in St. Mungo's. Set over a period of several years.





	The Empty Man

I.

Harry still has nightmares about it. 

It was a little like Dumbledore’s Pensieve, watching the thoughts and memories spool out in silver-white wisps. He saw things in the smoke, things he recognized-- the hulking image of a black dog, a cloud passing over a full moon, his parents’ faces. 

Harry tried to muster up a Patronus but there was nothing, nothing happy, nothing kind or gentle in his mind. He had no happy memories to recall; he could only stand and watch every last one of Sirius’s own happy memories drift out of him and vanish into the gaping maw of the Dementor latched to him. 

He saw Remus’s face, lit up and much, much younger, and then his face faded away and so did the rest of it, so did all of it, and the real Remus was there with his arms vice-like around Harry’s chest,  _ “He’s gone, we can’t help him, Harry, he’s gone _ ,” the sobs wrenching their way out of him even as he tried to be the responsible one, the adult. 

Curses rebounded around the room and the fight went on. Somewhere, Neville slipped and dropped the prophecy and it didn’t matter, none of it mattered. 

The Dementor finished administering the Kiss and backed away, dropping the shell of its victim to the floor. And finally, finally, as the Dementors relented and backed away, Remus released Harry and they both rushed to the center of the room, the battle an afterthought. 

Remus grabbed at Sirius’s hands, kept murmuring his name over and over, “ _ Sirius, Sirius _ ,” but Harry couldn’t even manage that. 

He crouched on his knees and stared into the vacant eyes of his godfather. “No,” he said. “No, no, no…”

II.

His shirt collar feels itchy and his glasses keep fogging up in the morning humidity, but Harry hardly takes note of any of it. He tries to keep everything Hermione told him stuck in his head-- Miriam Strout, the Healer he met last time he visited St. Mungo’s, wouldn’t be here. He needed to get the photographs and flowers carefully inspected before gifting them to the patient he came to visit. He needed to go to the Janus Thickey Ward, fourth floor. 

It all kind of jumbles together in his head, and he finds himself wishing Remus were there. He finds himself wishing Ron or Hermione were there. 

He finds himself wishing Sirius were there. 

Fortunately, the welcome witch knows exactly what he needs to do and where he needs to go. She directs him without needing to think about it. He gets the gifts okayed by the St. Mungo’s staff and then begins the trek upstairs. 

The Healer who lets him into the ward looks young, and his uniform barely fits. He’s nice enough, though, and it looks like he’s been spending his time painting watercolors with Alice Longbottom. Harry makes a mental note to tell Neville, and then he turns to the bed in the corner. 

Immediately, he’s reminded of finding Hermione lying in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, petrified. Sirius’s eyes stare ahead just as vacantly. The only difference is the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the only sign Sirius isn’t really dead, not in the traditional sense. 

In his head, he hears Remus’s straight-out-of-the-textbook explanation.  “ _ You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no...anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever... lost. _ " 

Harry swallows and plops the flowers from Molly Weasley on the table beside his godfather’s bed. They’re fiery red, yellow and blue, bright and springy looking. He couldn’t name them if he tried; Herbology feels like part of another life. “Hey,” he says, sounding hoarse. He coughs. “Hey, Sirius. It’s me. It’s Harry.” 

Sirius’s blank eyes don’t focus on him. They don’t really focus on anything. 

“Remus says… Moony, Moony says hi. Ron and Her… Ron and Hermione, they say hi. Everyone, um…” He can’t, he can’t; every nerve in his body screams at him to run and never look back. “Sirius,” he says, sliding unthinkingly into the pristine chair beside the bed. “I miss you.”

Absurdly, the empty man on the bed looks healthier than Harry’s ever seen him. The Healers keep him clean and well-fed; Harry can see a discarded metal tray below the side table. Sirius’s hair looks well-maintained and recently trimmed, and he’s clean-shaven. 

But his eyes, his terrible empty eyes… 

“You saved me,” Harry whispers, taking his godfather’s hand. “It was… I mean, you saved me so many times. But after… after the Dementors… even then, you saved me. Voldemort came. He was… well, it was like he and I were the same person. Thing. Animal. We were combined. It was awful, Sirius. And he… Voldemort kept telling Dumbledore to just finish it, just kill us, together, and I wanted him to. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sirius, but I wanted him to. I wanted to be done.” He shoves his glasses up to his forehead so he can swipe furiously at his eyes. “And then I thought of you. I thought of dying and seeing you again, I thought of how much I loved you, Sirius… how much I love you. And you saved me. Voldemort couldn’t hang onto me like that.”

Sirius turns his head and looks at him the way a deer in the woods might upon hearing an unfamiliar sound. But it’s enough for Harry, for now. “You saved me,” he says again. 

“Mm, you won’t see him again.”

Harry jumps and turns around to find the source of the voice-- of course. Gilderoy Lockhart, looking as confused and vacant-faced as the last time. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. 

“That man over there, been Kissed by a Dementor,” Lockhart rambles. “Now, see, I read about them, in a book, very good book, what was it called? Ah, yes!  _ Dinner with Dementors _ , excellent read, no clue who wrote it. Very handsome man. But, see, it says in the book that when some poor soul, well, not poor soul, excuse the expression, see, it says when some poor bloke gets his soul sucked out, the Dementor destroys it. Digests it, ah, something like that.”

Harry’s hands shake. “What are you saying?” 

“Doesn’t go up, doesn’t go down, doesn’t go anywhere,” Lockhart says, sounding entirely unconcerned. “Just disappears. So, what I mean to say is, once you die, you won’t see him.” He points to Sirius. “Tragic, really. Would you like an autographed picture?”

Harry turns his back on Lockhart and tries to shut him out, but he heard enough. “I’m sorry, Sirius,” he whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.”

III.

When Harry comes back over Christmas vacation, Miriam Strout has returned to the Janus Thickey Ward. Harry’s pleased to see that her young replacement-- Belvedere Bedlam, he learned the man’s name was-- stuck around to play checkers with the Longbottoms. 

“Hello, dear,” Miriam says to Harry, offering up a sympathetic smile. “Here to see your godfather?”

Harry nods, clutching a box of sweets. Miriam takes it from him and gives it a thorough second examination even though security already took a look-- she doesn’t let anything get past her these days. Losing Broderick Bode sunk in. “All good, dear,” Miriam says, letting him into the ward. “Have a nice visit.”

Sirius sits propped up in the bed, wearing, ridiculously, a Santa hat. And he has a guest. Harry jumps a little but then calms down when he realizes it’s just Remus sitting in the chair next to the bed, speaking animatedly to Sirius about Tonks and the twins and Quidditch. 

“Oh,” Remus says, glancing up at Harry. He’s wearing reindeer antlers on his head. “Oh, Sirius, look, Harry brought us some candy. Chocolate? Is there chocolate?”

Despite himself, Harry laughs. “For  _ Sirius _ ,” he says emphatically, grabbing a chair from the center of the room and dragging it to Sirius’s bedside. “Your stuff’s all at Ron’s. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He turns to Sirius. “Here you go,” he says, placing the box in his godfather’s lap. 

Sirius looks at it for a long moment, and then Remus goes ahead and opens up the long case and selects a chocolate truffle. “Here,” he says, gently, gently, and holds it up to Sirius’s face. “It’s good.”

Sirius sniffs it and then robotically moves his hand up to hold the candy before moving it mechanically into his mouth. He chews and swallows, showing no sign that he enjoys it, only that it’s food and it can be eaten. 

“He used to like the coconut ones,” Remus says quietly. “Which was fantastic, really, because James and I hated coconut. We’d give them all to him.”

Harry looks down at the box. “There’s coconut in here.” 

“Good,” says Remus. “He’ll like that.”

He doesn’t like anything. He doesn’t dislike anything. Harry doesn’t correct Remus, though. “Yeah,” he says, selecting a coconut bonbon from the box. “He’ll like that.” 

IV.

Miriam Strout’s a little paler and thinner than she used to be, even just months ago, but she doesn’t sacrifice her work. Gilderoy Lockhart asks every morning why all the nurses looks so worried and she tries to tell him the truth as well as she can without causing any harm. 

“There’s a very frightening war,” she explains like she’s telling a bedtime story to a child. “Led by a very frightening man. And it’s very sad because a lot of people have died. But someday it’s going to be okay. I don’t know when, but… but you know, dear, these things just don’t last forever.”

She has to believe that. She has to hope. Two weeks ago, Death Eaters stormed in and dragged a man, screaming, out of Spell Damage. The “new” Ministry takes more and more control every day. There’s a line between having faith and lying, and Miriam’s pretty sure she’s crossed it, with Gilderoy and with herself. But she’s pretty sure she doesn’t care. 

Neville Longbottom surprises her, showing up even in the midst of everything she’s heard about happening at Hogwarts, the Carrows and Snape and the cloud of fear hovering over the school. “Hi,” he says to her, looking tired and stressed but just as kind. “Erm, here.” He slides a potted succulent across her desk toward her. 

“Thank you, dear,” Miriam says sincerely, and lines it up carefully with the other plants he’s brought her over the years. 

“It doesn’t need much water,” Neville says, comfortable speaking as long as it’s about plants. “But, um, it likes when you talk to it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she tells him with a warm smile.

“How are they?” 

Miriam sweeps a lock of hair behind her ear. “They can tell something’s wrong,” she admits. “They’re worried… your father, he has nightmares. But Belvedere’s been very good, chats with them every day.”

Neville nods and walks into the ward. 

He immediately goes to greet his parents, careful and cautious as always, but then he surprises Miriam again. He tells Frank and Alice that he’s glad to see them, and he’ll come join them again in a few minutes, and then he turns and walks over to the bed housing Sirius Black. 

“Hi, Mr. Black,” he says, sitting rigidly in the chair next to Sirius’s bed. “I’m really sorry Harry can’t be here, but I know he’d want you to know that he’s okay, and that he’s out there being brave and fighting for all of us.” He pats Sirius’s hand in a comforting manner. “I don’t know if you know, but… well, there’s a lot of scary stuff going on right now. But Harry’s fighting it. And I know him, you know him… I think he’s gonna win. I know he’s gonna win.” 

V.

After the final battle, after the funerals, after all of it, Harry heads for Gryffindor Tower, knowing he’ll find Neville packing up all his belongings. “Hey,” he says, leaning in the doorframe. “Got a second?”

“Got lots of them,” Neville jokes, turning to face Harry. “What’s--” But before he can finish, Harry wraps him into a tight hug, arms tight around his sides and face pressed into his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he says, eyes brimming with tears. Neville feels a little taken-aback, but it’s not unpleasant. He likes hugs. “Miriam, at the hospital, she told me what you did while I was away… You visited him, you talked to him.”

Harry backs away but he’s still staring at Neville with an uncomfortable amount of gratitude. Neville scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “It was nothing, really.”

“It was  _ everything _ ,” Harry swears. “Really, Neville… it wasn’t just the snake, it wasn’t just the stuff there at the end… you took care of everyone when I was away. The students, Sirius… I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Neville grins. “Well, I like firewhiskey.”

“Lead the way,” Harry says, gesturing in the general direction of Hogsmeade. 

Neville laughs. “Lemme finish packing up,” he says. “And then, definitely, we’ll go get a drink.”

“Okay,” says Harry, beginning to leave but turning back. “Seriously, Neville, thank you.”

Neville shrugs. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“I would,” Harry promises, thinking about Frank and Alice Longbottom. “I would have.” 

VI.

“And who’s this young man?” Miriam Strout asks, stepping around her desk so she can crouch down beside the boy next to Harry. 

Harry smiles down at his godson. “Go on, you wanna tell her your name?”

“Teddy,” the kid says, swinging from his tight grip on Harry’s hand. With his free hand he clutches a handmade doll. “Who are you?”

She laughs. “I’m Miriam,” she says, handing him a lollipop from her desk drawer. “I’m friends with your…?” She glances up at Harry.

“Godfather,” he supplies.

“I’m friends with your godfather,” Miriam says as Teddy gleefully unwraps the lollipop and pops it into his mouth. 

“What do you say, Teddy?” Harry says. 

With a mouth full of lollipop, Teddy garbles out, “Thank you,” before Harry scoops him up. 

“And what do we say when Grandma asks if you had any candy today?” Teddy animatedly shakes his head. “That’s right,” Harry laughs, carrying the boy into the ward. 

Sirius sits upright in bed, a cup of tea clutched in his hand. “Hi, Sirius,” Harry says, sitting down beside him with Teddy held loosely in his lap. “How’re you doing?” He holds up a thumbs-up toward his godfather and waits for a sign of response. 

Sirius sips his tea. Harry takes it as an  _ I’m doing just fine, given the circumstances _ . He looks fine, at any rate. 

“I brought someone I want you to meet,” Harry says, clapping Teddy on the shoulder. “Sirius, this is Teddy. He’s Remus and Tonks’s son.” He can’t help it; his voice breaks a little on their names. “Teddy, this is your Uncle Sirius.”

Teddy stares at Sirius. “Is he sick?”

Harry hugs his godson close to him. “Yes, in a way,” he says, wishing he had asked someone for advice before deciding to bring Teddy to the Janus Thickey Ward. Absurdly, he feels like it might have helped to talk to Neville’s grandmother. “Uncle Sirius got hurt really bad before you were born. He doesn’t talk anymore, and he needs to stay here with Miss Miriam to take care of him.”

Teddy cocks his head to the side. “Can he hear us?”

Harry rubs little circles into Teddy’s shoulder to keep from crying. “I think so,” he says, but he’s never known for sure. “I think he can hear us.” 

Sirius sets his tea down on the side table and stares at Teddy, looking honestly curious. Harry notices. “Teddy,” he says quietly, “do you want to sit with him on the bed?” Teddy nods, so Harry lifts him up and settles him in the crook of Sirius’s arm, sequestered into a spare spot of the bed. “I think he’s wanted to meet you for a long time, Teddy. He and your dad used to be best friends.” 

“For real?” Teddy says, looking up at Sirius, who looks down at the boy like he’s inspecting a bowl of shredded wheat for sogginess. “Like you and Ron and Hermany?” He can’t say Hermione’s name quite yet. Ron and Harry find it hilarious; Hermione doesn’t. 

“Yes, like that,” Harry says, keeping a careful eye on Sirius. He knows his godfather would never do anything to hurt anyone, not now, but there’s always the chance he might shift and lift his arms and send Teddy tumbling to the floor. “Sirius and your dad used to get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Like you and Ron and Hermany?”

Harry can’t help it; he laughs. “Yep,” he says. “Just like us.” 

And then, to Harry’s amazement, Sirius raises his hand to Teddy’s forehead and brushes aside his bangs, gently, gently. He’s careful as he strokes Teddy’s mop of hair, currently a brilliant shade of bubblegum pink. 

“What’s he doing?” Teddy asks, giving Sirius a strange look. 

Harry’s not bothering to try to hold back the tears; they well in his eyes and streak past the rims of his glasses. “He’s saying hello,” Harry says, squeezing Sirius’s other hand. “He’s saying… it’s nice to meet you.” 


End file.
